


Candy Canes and Memories

by Calacious



Category: Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Alfred's Point of View, Christmas Fluff, Gen, Nostalgia, non-canon compliant
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-26
Updated: 2019-12-26
Packaged: 2021-02-27 00:48:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,525
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21964114
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Calacious/pseuds/Calacious
Summary: In some ways, Christmas with Richard at the manor is a new experience, and in many ways, it's not.
Comments: 2
Kudos: 35





	Candy Canes and Memories

**Author's Note:**

  * For [suerum](https://archiveofourown.org/users/suerum/gifts).



> Sue, I hope that this is okay. I wanted to gift you with a story for Christmas, and know that this isn't quite what you are perhaps longing for. I hope that you enjoy it nonetheless. Merry Christmas!
> 
> For other potential readers: This is not canon compliant, and is really just an exploration of what having a child in the manor on Christmas would be like for Alfred and Bruce.

"Master Richard, not before dinner, you'll ruin your appetite," Alfred admonished the slightly over-rambunctious boy, pulling the candy cane from Richard's grip with a well practiced move. He'd had to do the same with Master Bruce when the man was younger, before he'd grown out of childish things (too soon if anyone had bothered to seek Alfred's thoughts on the matter - no one had).

"But Alfie, it's Christmas!" Richard peered up at Alfred through his bangs (he'd need a haircut soon). His blue eyes were sparkling, and his bottom lip was trembling just a touch. Alfred had considerably less practice in dealing with this sort of manipulation as Master Bruce had rarely used such looks on him. Still, he merely raised an eyebrow and pointed toward the sitting room where Bruce was reading his paper. 

"It's Christmas Eve," Alfred said, steering Richard toward the room when the boy stood rooted to the spot. "And dinner will be served soon."

Richard sighed dramatically, shoulders sagging as he trudged into the room, springing into a one-handed cartwheel at the last minute. He landed directly in front of Bruce, but without his usual flourish. 

It took Bruce a few moments too long (in Alfred's opinion from where he stood just outside the door) to peer at Richard over the top of his newspaper. Richard placed his chin over the edge of the paper, crinkling it. 

"Alfie won't let me have a candy cane," he said. 

Alfred felt a little betrayed, but he kept quiet, watching the interaction between the man he'd come to see as a son and the boy he was beginning to see as a grandson. Bruce frowned and blinked as though he was just noticing that he was not alone, though Alfred knew that the man had been aware of Richard the moment he'd set foot in the room, and that he was aware of Alfred's hovering presence. 

"I'm sure that Alfred had a very good reason to deny you the candy cane, chum," Bruce said. 

"But it's Christmas Eve!" Richard threw his hands out wide as though encompassing the entirety of the world. 

"It is, isn't it?" Bruce said, seeming to mull it over. "And do you know what that means?"

Richard shook his head, shoulders slumping once again as he realized that he would not be getting the much coveted candy cane that he'd had his heart set on. He climbed onto Bruce's lap, shoving the newspaper aside without preamble and settled himself there as though he'd belonged there all along. 

For a moment, the memory of a much younger Bruce doing this very thing with Thomas Wayne clouded Alfred's vision, and he had to turn away briefly. When he turned back, he became witness to a sight that he'd never thought he'd see in his lifetime: Bruce -- head bent to listen to whatever Richard was saying, a genuine, carefree smile on his face, and a twinkle in his eyes, not unlike the sparkle that had been in Richard's minutes before -- being a father much like the one that Bruce had lost to tragedy. 

Richard was laughing at something Bruce said, and Alfred wondered how the man had been able to mollify the whirling dervish of a boy who'd taken over the manor in the year and a half he'd lived with them. Whatever it was, it had brought back the spark that Alfred's denial of a pre-dinner treat had taken away (Alfred had no regrets about that).

Satisfied that Richard was well in hand, and that his job was done (for the time being), Alfred took one last look at the pair sitting together on the armchair that had once been occupied by Thomas Wayne on many a Christmas Eve, and returned to the serious matter of preparing Christmas Eve dinner for the two people he loved most in the world. It would be the best Christmas Eve dinner that young Master Richard had ever had, and the second best for Master Bruce. 

Richard did not mention the stolen candy cane again, though he did manage to treat himself to one before Christmas breakfast, dipping it into his hot cocoa, much to Alfred's chagrin, and Bruce's ill-concealed amusement. Bruce slipped one past Alfred as well, ducking his head when Alfred swatted at him, and smiling like the child he'd once been. 

"If the young masters would prefer to have candy canes dipped in hot cocoa for breakfast, far be it from me to spoil your appetites with a well-balanced meal," Alfred said, sniffing and adjusting the cuffs of his jacket. 

He had to hide his smile when Bruce and Richard's faces dropped in twin looks of mild horror. The candy canes found their ways into napkins and were secreted away. No doubt Alfred would have to empty the pockets of Richard's and Bruce's robes before laundering them. It was a small price to pay for the looks on both of their faces. 

"We're sorry, Alfie," Richard said, contrite, face angelic above folded hands. "Please let us have the best Christmas breakfast ever."

"The best Christmas breakfast ever?" Alfred questioned with raised brow.

Richard nodded with such seriousness that Alfred nearly lost his composure. Instead, he pursed his lips and waited for the boy's explanation, curious as to what had prompted him to say such a thing.

"That's what Bruce said," Richard said. "He said that you make the bestest Christmas Eve dinner and the bestest, best, most goodest Christmas breakfast ever."

Alfred blinked at all of the butchered modifiers and glanced at Bruce who gave him a sheepish look. 

"I may have mentioned something like that," he said. "I do have it on good authority that you make the best breakfast in all of Gotham."

"I see, Sir," Alfred said, unable to trust his voice to say more than that. "Well, if you two are quite finished with your absconded candy canes, breakfast will be served. That is, if you both still have your appetites."

Richard's eyes grew round as saucers and he nodded solemnly. Bruce's lips twitched in something approximating a smile. 

"We have our appetites," Richard said. "Don't we, Bruce?"

"Quite," Bruce said, winking at Richard, making the boy giggle and Alfred's heart warm as memories of another giggle, similar, yet different to this one, overtook the moment and made Alfred long for the past in a way that had not happened before Richard set foot in the manor. 

He'd had his reservations when Bruce first set his mind on taking the orphaned boy in. All such reservations were gone, had been gone if Alfred was completely honest, well before now.

"Join us for breakfast, Alfie," Richard said, young voice earnest. "Please." 

Blue eyes pleaded with him, and sighing, Alfred nodded, and hid a smile at Richard's whoop of delighted triumph. Those eyes, combined with the way that Richard pouted, would break just about anyone, Alfred reasoned. He had a feeling that Bruce was similarly affected by the power of Richard's eyes when the boy turned his gaze on him, and Bruce's face softened. 

Christmas breakfast was followed by the opening of Christmas presents. Richard expressed great joy in all that he was given, and Alfred was especially touched by the thoughtful gift the boy had given him of a homemade card and ornament. A candy cane had been taped to the card and Alfred shook his head in amusement. 

"Aren't you gonna eat your candy cane?" Richard asked, eyeing the candy cane with ill-disguised longing. 

"Not before dinner, young master," Alfred said, pocketing the Christmas treat, and fully intending on gifting it back to Richard when it was time for dessert. He hadn't had a candy cane in years, and rarely indulged in confectionery. He preferred more savory fare.

Yet the candy cane filled him with a certain longing that he'd not experienced since his own childhood, and before he fully realized what he was doing, he'd unwrapped the candy cane and lifted it to his lips. The scent of peppermint brought him back to his early days of working for the Waynes, of Bruce when he was small enough to wrangle his way into Alfred's arms and wrap the butler around his tiny, pudgy fingers. 

He'd blame it on nostalgia when Richard caught him with the candy cane in his mouth, spoiling his own dinner. Nostalgia, and the very present gift of another young master that had managed to worm his way into Alfred's heart, and wrap him around his slender, deft fingers. 

"You'll spoil your dinner, Alfie" Richard said, a mischievous glint in his eyes. 

"And rot your teeth," Bruce added, barely suppressing laughter. 

"It's a small price to pay," Alfred said, head held high. "For a once a year indulgence."

It was a treat that Alfred found himself indulging in every Christmas day from that day forward, and one that he did not mind sharing with both of his charges. No matter how old Bruce grew, he would still be Alfred's first boy, and no matter how many children Bruce took in, Richard would always have a special place in his heart as his first grandchild.


End file.
